“Are you sure, you don’t want to come? Think again. I can wait”, Joyce
asked for the umpteenth time when she was finally ready to leave for the party.
She looked lovely in a peach-coloured short dress that left her shoulders bare.
Her blonde hair was down and wore stilettos that could double as a weapon in
Cheryl’s opinion..
“Yes, Joy”, Cheryl said firmly.
“You go ahead and have fun. I will wait up to hear all the details.”
“Okay”, Joyce sighed and left.
Cheryl stared at the door Joyce had shut behind her. Finally, she got up from
her bed and went over to the window. From there she could see the bright lights
of the university hall, where the party was being held. Her ears even caught
the strains of some fast music number that was being played there. Apart from those
hall lights, the campus was pretty dark.
Cheryl shifted her gaze towards
the sky. A full moon shone brightly. And the stars were out. The university was
located some distance from the city. So, the sky here was clearer, leaving all
the mysteries of the night bare for the interested. Cheryl tried to figure out
the different constellations and when she got tired, she just stood there drinking
in the fresh summer air.
But suddenly, she felt hemmed in. Loneliness hit her. She had not expected
to feel homesick but she was. She wanted to speak to her dad, hear him make oft
humorous observations about his day at work, life, anything. And her mother. One
moment a diva and a lady and other a woman so in love with her family. She wanted
to curl up on the sofa in the family living room and watch a favourite movie. That
is all she wanted. Why did she have to do anything more?
She started to tear up but quickly blinked them away. Self-pity would
not help. She needed to just call home feel better. She booted her computer and
tried to video-call her parents. Neither of them were online. Bertha was. She called
her sister.
Bertha’s beautiful face filled her screen an instant later. “Hey, kid. How
are you?”
“I am – okay. How are you?”
“Too wired to sleep, though I should. I have got an early morning shoot.”
Bertha grimaced for a moment before excitement danced all over her face. “I
have got a secret. And I am dying to tell someone.” She giggled in a manner
that reminded Cheryl of their childhood.
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| Photo Courtesy: Google Search |
Cheryl smiled. Her sister was so full of - joie de vivre. Yes, that was the right phrase. “And I am dying to know. Tell me. Tell me.”
“I think I might be in love!” Bertha shouted, throwing her arms in the
air in exultation.
“Oh. Wow.” Cheryl had seen Bertha in love before. Quite a number of
times. And the amazing thing was that she really believed that she was in love –
the real deal – every single time, even when she was ten. It lasted intensely
until the vacation got over, or the next assignment came along. The guys she
fell in love with never felt slighted when she moved on, as if they also knew
that Bertha was a river, who could never
be content till she reached the sea. They just enjoyed the vivacity of her
presence and moved on themselves. Cheryl hoped that someday her sister would truly
be in love and be loved in return. That day, there would no longer be a moving
on. There would be no need to.
“I know. It is so great”, Bertha gushed. “He is so great.”
“Who is he? Would I know him?”
“Ramses Ali. He is...”
“One of the leading fashion photographers in the country. And maybe...maybe,
a little old for you, don’t you think?” Truth be told, Ali wasn’t that old. In his late thirties, he was considered
part of his field’s youth brigade. But Bertha had barely left her teens behind.
Don’t be such a bore, Cher”, Bertha admonished. “He is gorgeous. Not
like a model but there’s something about him. He is so sharp and knowledgeable.
I can talk to him about anything – from politics to movies. And that is sexy,
right?”
Here lies the heart, Cheryl thought. Her sister may have chosen a career that focussed more
on how one looked rather than thought, she often felt starved for conversation
that did not just revolve around fashion. Of course, contrary to the crass
popular opinion, the fashion world wasn’t populated by good-looking people who barely
could hold two thoughts in their heads.
“Yeah, it is. It is. Tell me more.”
